


Of Job Interviews and Marriage Vows

by AnnaNSmith



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 11x02, Coda, Communication, Fix-It, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNSmith/pseuds/AnnaNSmith
Summary: Coda to 11x02. Marriage is hard. Surprisingly, talking shit out seems to help.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 19
Kudos: 181





	Of Job Interviews and Marriage Vows

Throwing the dollar bills at Ian on the floor, he spurns him on to keep going, watches how he tries to maintain his pace while clearly being irritated. He tells him how money does seem to buy happiness and, really, it’s just random ramblings he’s doing now. He just wants to get on Ian’s nerves and rub his _illegal_ earnings under his nose.

He keeps doing it until Ian blows out a strained exhale and stays on the ground, staring up at nothing. Ian looks miserable. The petty side of him thinks _good_. Ian started all this, got on his case, and turned on him. They just got married and all Ian can think about is money. Specifically how he isn’t pulling his weight, but at the same time putting up all these new weird rules about not being allowed to actually go out and get some. No, it has to be on his terms. Because suddenly he’s got an issue with how he runs things. They could be enjoying themselves, have some fun, and fuck like the newly-wedded fuck rabbits they should be. But no, Ian is being an ass and keeps on nagging him, putting up shitass ultimatums by withholding sex. If Ian feels miserable, then good. He can see if he cares.

And then the other side of him, who is still fucking angry about this afternoon’s interview, because stupid fucking Jerome told him to go out there for Ian, is just done with this shit. Done with being constantly criticized, looked at with irritation, and made to feel like everything he’s doing is just not good enough. Ian is not the only one who is miserable. And he just doesn’t want to be doing this shit anymore.

He stops throwing the money at Ian, collects the remaining bills from the bed, his shirt, and his boxers, and then just tosses it onto the dresser. Ian glances at him for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything. He slides to his side of the bed angrily and turns to the wall. He’s done with this shit. He doesn’t want to be feeling like this. But looking at Ian it’s all he can feel at the moment. So he keeps his back toward Ian and closes his eyes.

-

For once he wakes up earlier than Ian. Which means it’s fuck o’morning, because Ian usually takes his meds around 6:30. Not to mention his mature adult job has him clock in at 7:45, like a good mindless worker drone. Seeing him still asleep next to him therefore means, it’s far too early for him to even think about getting up. Normally he sleeps until a reasonable time and then hangs out downstairs watching some housewife show while eating breakfast. Starting on his first beer, maybe jacking off if he feels like it, or taking another nap. All until the kids come back from school and kindergarten and then usually there’s a groove to things that is the daily Gallagher drama he gets into. If he thinks about it, he really hasn’t been doing anything. Besides chilling on the couch and getting sexed up, he can’t think of anything noteworthy he’s been doing. He’s finished all current seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. He thinks that should count. That hospital is a freak show. And while he likes to keep saying he’s still on his honeymoon, he guesses it can only be counted as a honeymoon if his husband is spending the time with him.

Looking over at Ian, he gets angry again. He could go out there and do his thing and feel accomplished at the end of the day like any other normal person for bringing home the bacon, too. Like he did yesterday. He felt good in his skin. Going out there, hotwiring that moron’s truck, stealing from Ian’s job – boy, did he get a kick out of that one – and then knowing just the right people to sell that shit to, he felt like he was soaring again. Like that time he started his moving company scam. Working out the logistics of a real nice, sophisticated fraud, there is hardly anything better than that. Or just winging it and letting his instincts take over, it gets his blood pumping to see how he made shit work and get away with it. But that’s suddenly not okay anymore. It has to be carting boxes around in a warehouse or digging graves. Fuck that shit.

He keeps looking at Ian, getting more and more irritated. Is this supposed to be how things are now? Ian demanding shit, getting angry with him, and then not touching him anymore. All because of money? He remembers the time he crashed at the Gallagher’s way back then and the time Ian was living with him, Svetlana, and the kid. In all honesty he doesn’t really remember how they arranged the money stuff, he just knows they did. It was a non-issue. Well, until Ian went and did porn at the very least. Fact is, they provided for each other. They always had. But suddenly it’s this huge thing that Ian cares more about than, well, him. He hates feeling like this.

Fine, if it’s so important to Ian, he’ll go out and look for a stupid minimum wage job. He throws the blanket off him and then climbs out of bed.

-

Job hunting is the most dimwitted, pathetic, pointless motherfucking shit Mickey ever had to do. Finding open positions, filling out job applications, providing references, remembering his damn social security number, listing past job experiences, declaring _relevant miscellaneous information –_ that usually always inquires about potential criminal records, showing up for interviews, answering dumbfuck questions… How does anyone ever get a job? This process is bullshit. How did Ian even get a job? Not only does he have a criminal record, but often enough these add-on questions also want to know if one has mental health issues. These questionnaires are designed to weed out the fucking unwanted. Fuck qualifications and skills. Got to have a college degree and a presidential recommendation to guard a frigging garage parking lot. How does any of this makes sense?

He’s been doing this for two weeks now and he’s got nothing to show for it. He gets up at 6:00, hightails it out of the house before Ian wakes up, looks for a position to apply to, goes to interviews, gets rejected, rinse and repeat. He just keeps on getting shot down at every place he goes. The only reason he even got any interviews is because he lied on his applications. Of course he did. There is no way he can get a foot into the door otherwise. And so basically he’s still not good enough even though he’s already fudged his resume to fit to what these dickheads want from him. After his last failed interview he even asked what he could have done better. He fucking _asked_ . He hates this. He hates everything about this. He doesn’t need to hear he’s _abrasive_ or _unsocial_ or _insensitive_ or _inadequate_ or that he _lacks a basic understanding of how to conduct himself sensibly_. He almost fucking decked the guy.

_He hates this!_

And he starts hating Ian for making him do this. This is not him. Normal isn’t him. All their lives he was never it and now Ian wants normal. Why did the guy even fucking marry him if this is what he wanted? The more he’s doing this, the more he starts to resent Ian. He doesn’t want to see him and have nothing to show for himself. He doesn’t want to go back to hearing him complain about being lazy, how he didn’t plan to support a husband, or how he’s paying his part of the bills only. He doesn’t want to be met with irritation and discontent. But because of fucking COVID he can’t even properly avoid his husband by going to a bar and drink. No, he has to avoid his husband by going to the park and drink. He’s missing all the new episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, because he doesn’t want to go home before Ian isn’t sleeping yet.

He hates all of this…

-

Quietly climbing up the stairs, he heads to the bathroom and takes a piss. It’s past midnight and everyone is in their rooms sleeping by now. Like every night he’s been coming home for the past two weeks. With a deep sigh, he heads to his and Ian’s room and sneaks in. But instead of finding Ian lying on the bed asleep, he’s sitting there, apparently waiting. Great, with his luck Ian is going to want to talk. They share a look and Ian doesn’t seem particularly angry, but it’s hard to tell sometimes what Ian is thinking. He tends to get too much into his own head and starts brooding by himself.

“Hey,” he mumbles and closes the accordion door behind him. It’s kind of weird. It’s the first word he’s spoken to Ian in weeks.

“Hey.”

When Ian isn’t saying anything more and just keeps looking at him, he simply starts stripping out of his shoes and clothes. He bypasses him and climbs into bed, settling down behind him. He’s tired. The weird, old park lady he has the pleasure of meeting every night, because apparently that’s where she must live, kept on chatting his ear off. He’s got another stupid job interview tomorrow at 8:00. He wants to get some sleep before he has to sneak out in the morning again.

“Where have you been all this time?” Ian asks and his voice is carefully even. He is still sitting there, looking at him.

“Out.”

Ian has this typical exasperated, indulging look on his face. An expression usually reserved for him. Maybe Lip is right and they’ve really been married for fifty years in actuality.

“What have you been doing all day every day the past two weeks?”

“Are you my Mom or my husband?”

“Mickey,” Ian says irritated and then seems to reign his frustration in.

He’s quiet for a moment, looking at the hands in his lap as he’s rubbing over the blisters on his palm.

“Have you been cheating on me?” He asks quietly.

He wonders where the fuck that is coming from and looks at him incredulously.

“No, I haven’t been cheating on you. Why the fuck did you think that?”

They went over this, didn’t they? All this writing what you want on paper and flipping that shit at the same time. He thought it was decided they’re doing that mono-fuck thing.

Ian nods to himself slightly and he sees some of the tension leave his body.

“I haven’t seen and spoken to you in weeks, Mickey. You’re gone before I wake up, you don’t come home until I’m asleep… I have no clue what you’ve been doing.”

“I’ve been busy,” he merely replies and turns his head to the wall, not wanting to look at Ian as he remembers the utter disaster that has been the last two weeks.

“With what?”

“Drop it, Ian,” he says. He is getting irritated again and he doesn’t want to get into things with him tonight.

He hears Ian exhale sharply and when he glances over he sees him ringing with what to say. Ian gets this soft look on his face and he turns a bit to face him better.

“I worry. If I don’t keep my eye on you, I worry you’re going to do something…”

“Illegal?” He fills in, eyeing him expectantly.

“Stupid.”

That makes it even better. He is past just getting irritated. He is full on fucking pissed now.

“Fuck you, Ian. I don’t need to hear this shit. Let me fucking sleep,” he says, turning around to face the wall.

“Mickey,” Ian calls him with a sigh.

And there it is again. Why does he get to be exasperated with him? He tells him he can’t spend _their_ money, which by definition is also _his_ money. He tells him to make money, but he also tells him he can’t do it his way. He tells him to go apply for a job at his warehouse and he does, but it’s still not good enough and he punishes him by withholding sex. Why is he the one getting sighed at?

“I want this marriage to work. We need open communication. Clearly you’re not happy with me, otherwise you wouldn’t have avoided me for so long. So, tell me what’s bothering you.”

He turns on his back to look at Ian.

“I’m bothered by your so-called open communication bullshit when all you want to hear is that I’m going to do what you want. I’m bothered being told what to do every fucking day. I’m bothered that instead of enjoying our newly-wed time you prefer to fight over money. I’m bothered being told I can’t have sex with my husband, if I don’t do what you want. I’m bothered that you keep forcing me to do shit that is not me. I’m bothered that the way I do things is suddenly not acceptable to you anymore. I’m bothered that over ten years you knew exactly who I was and now I need to be _normal_ for you! I’m bothered by all of this, okay? There!”

Ian stares at him taken aback. This is exactly why he avoided Ian. He didn’t want to get into this shit with him.

Ian seems to try to find the words to say something. He really can’t deal with this. He turns around again.

“Mickey,” he says softly and he feels his hand come up to rest on his side.

“Leave me alone, Ian.”

“Okay, I see now where I could have approached things differently. I’m sorry. Leveraging sex, knowing how much you like it, was shitty. And making you think that I want you to change was never my intention. I love you, Mickey. All of you. Ever since I was fifteen,” he says, rubbing over his side gently. “Marriage means we need to come together at times and figure things out. I’m only working through this as I go. I don’t really have any sources I can draw from, if you don’t count Google… I’m trying, Mick. The reason why I want you to get a normal job is because I don’t want you to end up locked up again. We need money and we both need to do our part here. I get that you are used to make money differently, but I don’t want either of us to get in trouble again. We decided to spend the rest of our lives together and I want to actually be _together_. You are risking our future every time you go out there and do some stupid shit. When you married me you agreed to a lifetime of you and me. You promised me. So, sometimes we gotta do shit we don’t really like – for each other.”

Looking at Ian, he sees he’s earnest and patient. He kind of expected them to start fighting about this. But putting it like that, Ian actually seems to have a point. He turns on his back again to face him. Ian’s hand settles on the sheets next to his hip, so he’s casually leaning over him.

“I went on job interviews. Nobody would hire me,” he mutters.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ian asks, looking at him surprised.

“It was a complete shitshow. I-I just don’t _do_ normal, Ian. And if I can’t do my shit, then I don’t know what to do.”

Ian thinks about this for a moment and then nods, understanding.

“We’ll figure something out that works for you, okay? Together. Don’t get discouraged. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard,” he says.

“You’re not… mad anymore?” He asks, eyeing him.

“Are you?”

Weirdly, all his irritation has evaporated. He really isn’t mad anymore. Ian seems to read it on his face and nods in agreement, before looking at him wearily.

“No more avoiding me please? I missed you.”

This open communication thing is uncomfortable as shit. But at least Ian doesn’t look exasperated or miserable anymore. And he doesn’t feel like that anymore either. He sits up, puts his hand on Ian’s where he is bracketing him, and looks at him.

“Okay, sorry,” he says. He glances down and back up again. “I missed you, too.”

Ian gives him a small smile and then leans in to kiss him.

“Marriage is tough,” he says with a sigh, resting his head against his. “But we’ll figure this out, right?”

It sounds a lot more difficult than breaking out of prison, but he thinks they’ll be fine. When it comes down to it, the only person who ever mattered to him was Ian. He’ll figure it out somehow. Even if that means he has to keep on going to these stupid job interviews.

He nods and then kisses him again. And when Ian wraps his arms around him to hold him close, to kiss him long and deep, he thinks _this_ he doesn’t hate at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. Please leave love!


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